


Impulses

by EllanaSan



Series: Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 75th Hunger Games, Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, F/M, Quarter Quell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:24:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original Prompt : Would you mind writing a one shot about Haymitch's and Effie's reaction to Peeta's "death" during the 75th Hunger Games? When he hits the force field</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impulses

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Akachan for the Beta. You can leave me a prompt on tumblr at ellanainthetardis if you want to :)

_“And it seems Peeta Mellark is about to go down, Caesar.”_ The commentator’s voice seemed strangely disembodied.

“What?” Effie turned her head from the smaller screen perched on the corner of the coffee table. “No, he’s not. They’re walking, he’s fine.”

Haymitch downed his glass in one go, convinced it was all about to go to shit. There were three screens in District 12’s living-room now, as was the custom. Two portables televisions they had dispatched on the coffee table like they always did – one for each of their tributes – and the big screen screwed to the wall that was tuned on national broadcast. Effie was kneeling on the ground, in front of the table, following Katniss’ and Peeta’s progresses and he was sitting on the couch, actively fighting the impulse of drinking the whole liquor cart as more and more of his friends were slaughtered on the big screen.

“What are they doing?” he asked, leaning closer to her to see Peeta’s screen.

“ _Nothing_.” Effie waved at their tributes in dismay, her eyes riveted on the national broadcast. “They’re just walking.” 

And they _were_ just walking. Everything was going _perfectly_ … Katniss had not killed Finnick yet… Both she and Peeta had escaped the bloodbath… They had enough weapons to go around… Finnick knew what to do, they _all_ knew what to do : protect Peeta.

_“Wait for it, dear viewer!”_ Caesar’s voice boomed as the images of the Cornucopia’s fight disappeared to show District 4’s and 12’s tributes trekking through the jungle. _“They’re in for a nasty surprise…”_

Haymitch let out a curse and eased himself out of the couch to the ground next to Effie.

“I can’t see anything dangerous.” She mused, confused, as she studied each screen in turn. “But it doesn’t mean anything of course. What do you think…”

“He’s taken point.” He hadn’t notice before. On the screen Peeta was switching his knife back and forth to clear the path. Haymitch’s eyes widened just as Caesar started prattling about the limits of the arena. “He’s going to…”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence. Katniss cried out but it was too late, it was _always_ too late, Peeta’s knife had already struck the force field.

“ _No_.” Effie breathed out, as the boy was thrown back into Finnick, making all of them fall like a row of bad aligned dominos. “No, no, no, no… He’s fine. Force fields don’t kill you. He’s fine, just knocked out. Haymitch, tell me he’s fine.”

Peeta’s screen went dead as was the norm when the tribute’s heart stopped beating.

“No!” Effie whined, uselessly hitting the side of the appliance to make the image come back. Or to make _Peeta_ come back, Haymitch wasn’t sure.

The close-up of Katniss’ face, on her own screen, nearly broke his heart. He slumped a little, leaning against the couch and passed a hand on his face before rubbing at his chin. Shocked. Caesar’s voice who was saying it was a shame and sympathizing with what Katniss must have been feeling didn’t even register.

“He can’t be dead.” Effie said, hitting the device again and again. “He can’t…” There were tears rolling down her cheeks, leaving pink trails on her powdered skin.

He blindly reached for her arm and pull her closer to him. She struggled a little, trying to keep on fighting the dead screen as if it had personally affronted her. “Stop,” he commanded “Stop that. He’s dead. He’s…” Gone. _Dead_. And everything he worked for was lost. Everything for nothing. He failed. Like he always did.

Effie collapsed against him, wheezing sobs wrecking her body. He held her. What else could he do? He held her and burrowed his face in the crook of her neck and prayed for a forgiveness he had no right to ask for. It was some time before his brain finally deciphered Caesar’s words, before he gathered the strength to look at the broadcast again… Finnick was pumping on Peeta’s chest with the same determination Effie had put into hitting the screen.

“Sweetheart…” he called, his voice disbelieving. He wasn’t surprised Finnick was trying to revive him, he was stunned they were letting him do it.

She lifted her head, leaving a dark wet spot on his shirt where her tears and make-up had mixed.

“Is he…” She sounded just as astonished as he was. No tribute had ever done that before. It was provocation at its highest. And, as Caesar was so bluntly putting it, it was a historic moment for the Hunger Games. “Please, let it work, please…”

Finnick finally leaned back and for one second, one tiny little second, Haymitch thought Peeta was truly lost. Katniss launched herself at the boy just as his screen flickered back to life once again.

He breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank god!” Effie blurted out, before laughing in pure instinctive glee. “He’s alive!”

For now. But he didn’t say that. He didn’t want to say that when she was so obviously relieved, so he forced himself to smirk. “Do you…” He intended to tease her about her impulsive violence against the electronically appliances but he didn’t even manage to fully utter the _you_ before she attacked him. Her mouth clashed against his in what would probably have passed for a kiss in some savage, brutal country. He leaned in when she retreated but she was blushing and clearing her throat and decidedly _not_ looking at him – no more kissing, then. He licked his lips, desperate to make her do that again, a little more properly.

“What was that, then?” he asked, his voice rough.

She was still pretending to look at the screen but she was crimson underneath all that white powder, he could tell.

“I’m just glad Peeta is alive, that’s all.” she replied, hastily. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.” 


End file.
